


A dream is a wish your heart makes

by MsPeppernose



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy
Genre: Anal Sex, Blowjobs, Dream Sex, Friends to Lovers, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-18
Updated: 2015-02-18
Packaged: 2018-03-13 15:02:07
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 14,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3386132
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MsPeppernose/pseuds/MsPeppernose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <em>Pete runs his finger tip along the brim of Patrick’s hat and then grins at him. “Look’s good on you,” he says. “Always looks good on you.” He grins as he’s leaning towards Patrick, and Patrick finds himself leaning in towards Pete. Their faces are so close and their mouths are about to meet, and it feels like this is not a first kiss, Pete seems to be too familiar with it, too comfortable. It’s more like a ‘just because’ kiss. Their lips are just about to touch when Patrick feels the room fading away and instead starts to be aware of the fact that he’s not actually sitting on a sofa at a party, not sitting on Pete’s lap. </em>
</p><p>Patrick has a dream about Pete which makes him feel weird. But that's just the start of it.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A dream is a wish your heart makes

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously this never happened.  
> Title is stolen from Cinderella (which I hopefully haven't ruined for anyone by linking to bandom smut...)
> 
> Warning; one mention of someone having a dream with suicidal feeling in it.

_Patrick can feel the warmth of Pete’s arm around his waist and the heat of Pete’s thighs under him. They’re huddled close and Patrick is sitting right in Pete’s lap. The room is full of people, standing and sitting around and there’s a hum of conversation around them. Pete is speaking with the person beside him who Patrick doesn’t know, and Patrick notes that Pete is absently stroking little circles into the small of Patrick’s back. Patrick fights a shiver, it feels so nice. He feels like he’s cocooned and wrapped in Pete._

_Pete shifts to fish his phone out of his pocket and Patrick has to slide off his lap back onto the sofa. Pete turns around briefly to Patrick and makes a theatrical pout, like Patrick not sitting on his lap anymore if the worst thing in the world. He pulls Patrick’s leg back over his so that their legs are at least touching and snakes his arm back around his shoulders. They’re still sitting so close and Patrick runs his palm along Pete’s thigh, simply because this all seems to be a normal thing at the moment, and he really wants to touch Pete. He rubs the pad of his thumb against the exposed patch of Pete’s skin where there’s a hole in his jeans. His skin is smooth with a scratch of coarse leg hair. Pete squeezes Patrick’s shoulder as if it’s something extremely comforting and not extremely odd for them._

_It feels strangely comfortable to be with Pete like this and Patrick feels so content. He’d be happy to sit like this for as long as Pete let him._

_The person Pete is chatting to gets up and moves across the room and it’s just the two of them now. Pete turns to look at Patrick and there’s a glint in Pete’s eyes, a look that’s full of comfort and love. It feels incredibly intimate to be with him like this. The look is one that’s just for Patrick, one that excludes everyone else in the room. Patrick only realises now that he has never noticed the exact shade of brown of Pete’s eyes before. They’re deep chocolate brown with tiny flecks of gold through them where the light hits them, and they’re shining just for Patrick._

_Patrick reaches up and brushes a stray clump of Pete’s hair out of his eyes because it feels like something normal, at least normal for a situation such as this. When Patrick’s hand returns to rest on his own thigh, Pete takes it in his and interlocks his fingers between Patrick’s._

_Pete runs his finger tip along the brim of Patrick’s hat and then grins at him. “Look’s good on you,” he says. “Always looks good on you.” He grins as he’s leaning towards Patrick, and Patrick finds himself leaning in towards Pete. Their faces are so close and their mouths are about to meet, and it feels like this is not a first kiss, Pete seems to be too familiar with it, too comfortable. It’s more like a ‘just because’ kiss. Their lips are just about to touch when Patrick feels the room fading away and instead starts to be aware of the fact that he’s not actually sitting on a sofa at a party, not sitting on Pete’s lap._

 

He opens his eyes. He’s in his bed with the covers pulled right up to his nose. It makes sense now.  
That was a dream. Of course it was a dream, he feels silly for thinking otherwise. Patrick doesn’t sit in Pete’s lap. He and Pete are close, very close, but they don’t share intimate looks and touches like that. And they certainly don’t share kisses like they were just about to.

Patrick blinks and rolls over to lie on his other side. Directly across from his are the deep brown eyes he was just looking into, except these ones are real. He startles a little. It’s not unusual for Pete to climb into his bed, it’s just that he wasn’t there when Patrick fell asleep.

“Hey. Morning, Patrick.”  
“Morning. You gave me a fright.”  
“Sorry. You were making these little sounds in your sleep. I thought at first that they were upset noises. So I got into your bunk to check you were okay. But then they sounded like happy noises. So I guess you’re ok?”  
“Yeah.” Patrick is not awake enough for this yet. Pete just stares at him like he’s trying to figure things out.  
“Dude, what was your dream about?” Pete grins at him.

Patrick panics. It’s very early, his brain is not even close to being awake yet, and it’s very difficult to go from leaning in to kiss Dream-Pete, to having a conversation with Real-Pete. Especially when he needs to lie about the contents of the dream. He does what he and Pete do often, and simply says “your mom.” It’s a slightly more affectionate way to say ‘fuck off’.

“Fine. Don’t tell me. I’m going to assume it was a dirty dream though. And I’m going to leave your bed now so you can jack off, cos I bet you will.” Pete raises an eyebrow and smirks. The asshole.  
He climbs out of the bunk, pulling the covers half off Patrick as he goes and Patrick has to scramble to hold onto them. Pete leaves the curtain of the bunk open too and Patrick pulls it sharply shut. Patrick is left contemplating one of life's mysteries: how Pete Wentz can go from awesome to asshole in less than three seconds. He doesn’t jerk off, at least not right away, because he’s stubborn enough to torture himself if it means Pete won’t be right.

*

Patrick takes a little while to process his dream and get back to normal. Rationally he knows it was just a dream and can’t mean anything much. He’s dreamed about being a spy, chasing vampires, and having to sit high school exams he hasn’t studied for so logically he knows his brain could throw him something weird like almost kissing Pete.

Once he convinces himself that, it’s plain sailing, but it does take a few hours of avoiding Pete and hiding out in his bunk until he gets there.

Pete is seeing a new girl. There’s nothing strange there, Pete is always babbling on to Patrick about some guy or girl that he likes. It’s not that Patrick doesn’t like this one – she’s pretty and funny and seems nice - it’s more that he’s waiting to see if she and Pete will be staying together for any length of time before he gets to know her better. Pete tends to end up in super intense relationships for three or four weeks and most of them end after that, when he gets bored or his paramour gets sick of his behaviour.

The girl he’s seeing - Katie? Katherine? Maybe Patrick should have paid a little more attention and at least gotten her name right - is sweet though and Pete seems to like her. He has mention-itis, and can’t stop dropping her name in conversation. Patrick is hoping this might be one that lasts a bit longer than a month because Pete seems happy.

Patrick is tired after a long day and a crazy show and he’s looking forward to relaxing in front of the TV and watching too many episodes of something to help him switch off. He grabs a box set of Law & Order and makes his way down to the back lounge on the bus. When he enters the room he jumps a little. Pete and his lady friend are pressed close together on the sofa, and her lipstick is smeared like they’ve been kissing. A lot.

“Sorry. I’ll watch this in the front.”  
“No. Stay, Patrick. Plenty of room.” Pete untangles himself and pats the sofa cushion beside him. Patrick chews the inside of his lip briefly and thinks. Joe is smoking in the front lounge and he’s not in the mood for that, but being a third wheel while Pete makes out with someone right beside him is nowhere near the top of his list of nice things to do this evening either.

“You sure?”  
“You don’t mind if Patrick joins us? Right, Katie?” Katie shakes her head and smiles sweetly at Patrick. Patrick goes to sit beside Pete and throws him a glance that he hopes Pete understands as ‘no funny business’.

They make it through three episodes completely fine. Pete behaves himself. He sits with his arm right around Katie’s shoulders and she holds his hand in both of hers. From time to time he kisses her on the cheek, sometimes he kisses her on the forehead, and once Patrick thinks he licks her ear. But it’s pretty good going, especially for Pete, who once practically dry humped a girl in front of the entire band but claimed they were ‘just kissing’.

Midway through the fourth episode, Katie has to leave. She says something about an early morning engagement, and there’s nothing Pete can do to convince her to stay (despite all of the filthy promises he makes her which he must think are whispered). 

After she’s safely in a cab, Pete returns to Patrick’s side. He cuddles himself up against Patrick and it always feels nice to have Pete so relaxed like this. They finish the episode with Pete’s head resting on Patrick’s shoulder.

When Patrick can’t contain his yawns any longer, he crawls into his bunk. He has a tiny pang of something in his stomach when he thinks of the evening. He enjoyed his time with Pete and Katie but he can’t help but wish he maybe had someone to cuddle up with too, and maybe like Katie cuddled into Pete.

*

_The band are all in the front lounge of the bus with a movie on. They are all half paying attention to what’s going on with it, half distracted by whatever they are each doing; Joe with his laptop, Andy with a book, and Patrick and Pete with each other._

_Pete has Patrick’s arm pulled around his shoulder and he holds Patrick’s hand in both of his. He traces little patterns over Patricks palm and then over his knuckles and back again. Pete keeps giving him these looks. They’re not quick glances, but long, lingering looks, and when Patrick catches him and smiles, Pete grins at him like he’s won a prize. He then goes back to half watching the movie and playing with Patrick’s hand until the next time he looks up._

_Patrick is half watching the movie. He’s paying attention enough to know that it’s a complicated plot and that he doesn’t trust the cop with the beard, but other than that he’s pretty distracted by Pete’s weight leaning warm against him and him being so affectionate. Pete’s forehead is close and Patrick thinks he could just reach over and kiss him on the temple. Then he thinks what a strange thought that is, he never kisses Pete on the forehead like that._

_Andy decides he’s had enough and gets up. “I’m going to finish my book in bed. Night guys.”_

_“Dude, don’t leave me alone with these two making gooey eyes at each other.” Joe says, shutting his laptop and getting up. “You go, I go.” Patrick thinks that that’s a very odd thing for Joe to say but before he can comment, Joe is gone and Pete is looking up at him again through his lashes._

_“Are you paying attention to this? Do you know what’s going on?” Pete asks._  
“Not really, but I don’t trust that bearded guy.”  
“Me either. He’s up to no good for sure. Do you mind if we miss the end of it?” Pete asks, shifting himself so that he’s facing Patrick but still so close.  
“You want to watch something else?”  
Pete sinks his teeth into Patrick’s shoulder playfully and grins. “Not really what I had in mind, Pattycakes.” 

_“Then what?” Pete doesn’t answer but lifts his hand to the back of Patrick’s neck and pulls him down for a kiss. Patrick is taken by surprise but he goes with it. Pete’s lips are warm and soft and inviting. Patrick panics a little, because he and Pete don’t do this, they don’t kiss. But his lips move back against Pete’s anyway, because the only other option would be to stop and he really doesn’t want to. Patrick opens his mouth and deepens the kiss and loses himself, feeling the slide of Pete’s tongue against his own, tasting him. He strokes his hand along Pete’s jaw, enjoying the prickle of stubble under his fingers. He jumps a little when Pete slides his hand in under his shirt to rub his thumb over the skin on his belly, but it feels nice. They kiss until Patrick has to pull back to take a breath._

_Pete uses the little pause to pull Patrick closer so that he’s right over Pete. Patrick looks down and he knows that Pete is his and his alone right now, even if it’s just for a few seconds. He dips his head down to kiss Pete again and Pete wraps both arms around his neck and holds him there, before running his hands down Patrick’s sides and it makes Patrick shiver._

_Patrick goes to kiss Pete again, but instead he feels Pete blurring and sliding_ and then he’s aware that what he’s stroking is not Pete’s jaw, but the fabric of his pillowcase. He realises that he’s not in the lounge at all, not making out with Pete, but he’s in his bed and that was a dream. Another dream. 

The light is dim and it’s morning but still very early. He’s too warm and he can feel Pete in the bed with him. When he notices that Pete’s arm is around his waist he removes it like it offends him. He knows his aversion to Pete is to do with his dream because he never usually minds Pete sleeping in his bed. Though he doesn’t usually dream about Pete’s skilful tongue and wandering hands.

“Are you okay?”

“Why are you always in my bed?” Patrick asks with probably a little too much force. He rolls over to look at Pete, and why, oh why is Pete in his bed today of all days.  
“Sorry.” Pete rubs his eyes blearily. “I couldn’t sleep. I thought it would be okay. I was asleep until just now when you started making those noises.”  
Patrick just stares at him because _oh god, what noises_.  
“What was your dream?”  
“Nothing. Just. It’s fine. Just go back to sleep.”  
Pete is silent for a few long minutes, his breathing quiet and steady. “Was it a dirty dream?” Patrick can hear how amused he is. “Want me to leave so you can have some alone time?” Patrick does want Pete to leave but he can’t say as much.  
“Fuck off, Pete. It’s too early,” Patrick hisses. The amusement in Pete’s voice gets under Patrick’s skin. Because this really isn’t funny. “Either be quiet or go sleep in your own bunk.” Patrick hopes that’s the end of it. But with Pete it never is.  
“Okay. But you better not have a boner.”

Patrick says nothing, just rolls his eyes silently, knowing any protest he makes will only prolong this. He shuts his mouth and ignores how hard he is and how he knows Pete is grinning away behind him.

*

Logically, if Patrick breaks it all down, he knows that his dream was just his brain taking all the pieces of his previous night and putting them back together in the wrong order. That’s all.

He had spent the evening on the sofa while Pete and Katie cuddled, he and Pete had cuddled after that, and Patrick had felt a bit lonely. There was nothing more to it.

It still takes him a day or so to be fully normal around Pete. He’s embarrassed that he somehow dreamed up making out with him, and embarrassed by how comfortable it felt. Dreaming about kissing his best friend leads to _thinking_ about kissing his best friend, which makes him feel odd. 

He keeps reminding himself it was just a brain fart. And after the thousandth time telling himself that he sort of believes it.

Pete and Katie aren’t doing too well. They have reached that one month mark where Pete starts to get itchy feet. He goes back and forth three times thinking he may or may not break up with her. Patrick thinks he won’t break up with her though, he keeps talking about how great she is, how gorgeous she is, and he’s constantly wearing a hoody of hers that she left in his bunk.

Patrick has already nursed Pete through one almighty row that he had with Katie so he’s not entirely surprised when she dumps him a week later. Pete takes it hard, though thankfully nowhere near to the nuclear proportions of bad that some of his other breakups have been.

He mopes around the bus during the day, forgets to eat, wears the same grubby clothes day after day, and plasters on a fake Wentz smile when he has to do anything press related. It’s a smile that might fool a lot of people but Patrick knows he’s hurting. 

Patrick steps up to the role of best friend and looks after him like he always does. He distracts him with stupid movies and comic books, takes him out for pancakes to make sure he eats, and he replaces his dirty clothes with fresh ones. After a week Pete cheers up and takes on a ‘fuck her, I’ll have fun without her’ attitude and Patrick is relieved to get Pete back.

Patrick is making toast in the tiny kitchenette on the bus when Pete comes up behind him and pulls him into a backwards hug. Patrick leans into it and hugs back as much as he can without the use of his arms.

“Thanks for looking after me,” he murmurs into the back of Patrick’s head.  
“No problem, Pete. Glad you’re feeling better.”  
Pete releases him from the hug and stands against the counter top watching Patrick potter around the kitchen.  
“Dude, can we go out? Let’s go get ice cream or something. My treat?” He doesn’t wait for Patrick to answer, he just grabs him around the wrist and starts to pull him towards the door.  
“I’m making toast. And I need shoes. Pete!”  
“Okay I’ll let you have shoes.” Pete grabs a pair of battered converse sneakers and pushes them into Patrick’s arms. “But seriously? Fuck toast! Why would you want that if you can have hot fudge and whipped cream and sprinkles? Come _on_. Pete says we should. Like Simon says but I say. Pete says we need caramel sauce. It’ll be fun.”

Patrick grins. Pete drives a hard bargain.

*

_Patrick is standing in Pete’s kitchen with his back to the door. He hears someone enter the room and he knows it can only be Pete. He looks over his shoulder and Pete is padding barefoot across the tiles. He feels Pete’s hands slide around his waist and Pete’s mouth on the base of his neck. And that’s new. Pete is always very physical but this feels almost predatory and possessive. He expects Pete to start laughing and maybe poke him in the back or something, but it doesn’t come._

_“Hey there,” Pete says, his voice low and very close to Patrick’s ear. “I was thinking. Want to play a game of ‘Pete says’?”_

_“What’s that?” Patrick asks, though he’s becoming increasingly distracted as Pete’s mouth moves over his skin. He’s not kissing, just dragging his lips up and down Patrick’s neck._

_“Like ‘Simon says’, except it’s what I say. So if say ‘Pete says turn around’, you have to turn around. Like this.” Pete tugs on Patrick’s shirt where his hands are on him and spins him around to face him. “See?”_

_Pete is so close to Patrick and he’s staring heavy-lidded at Patrick’s mouth. He smirks a dirty smile at him and quirks an eyebrow as if to ask if Patrick is going to play. Patrick nods._

_“Good,” Pete says. He moves a hand from Patrick’s waist to the buttons on his shirt. “Pete says you should let me undo this button so I can get my mouth on your neck.”_

_Patrick swallows hard and nods, suddenly very turned on. Apparently this is a thing they do now. Pete’s smile grows just a little and he pops the button open. He pulls the shirt open and traces little circles over the newly exposed skin. When Patrick shivers, Pete leans down to cover the spot with his mouth. Patrick huffs a breath when Pete’s lips and tongue touch the base of his throat, moving in open mouthed kisses along the dip of his collarbone. Pete hums as he goes and Patrick is starting to wonder how his legs are holding him up._

_“Pete says you should take my shirt off and then I’ll take off yours,” he murmurs into Patrick’s neck. And yes, Patrick would like that to happen. He grabs hold of the hem of Pete’s tank top and pulls up. Pete stands like a statue with his arms up so that Patrick can pull it off easily. Patrick has seen Pete in various stages of undress more times than he could ever count, but somehow this is so much hotter; he’s actually the one taking off Pete’s shirt. Underneath, Pete’s skin is beautifully smooth with warm tones and Patrick really needs to touch it. He slides his hands down Pete’s sides but Pete catches them and holds them still._

_“No, Patrick. I didn’t say ‘Pete says’. You can’t do that.”_

_Patrick has to bite his own lip because that really isn’t fair._

_“Pete says I wanna take your pants off.” Pete runs a finger along the fly of Patrick’s jeans, and there’s no way Pete can’t feel how hard Patrick is._

_“What about my shirt?” That’s such a stupid question though, because Patrick doesn’t care if Pete takes his pants or his shirt off. Both would be preferable.  
“Changed my mind. Though I’m going to take that off in a minute.”_

_Pete leans forward and kisses Patrick and its slow and so dirty. He licks his tongue into Patrick’s mouth and sucks gently on his lower lip in smooth, languid movements. Pete’s hand works on the button and zipper on Patrick’s until its open enough for Pete to get his hand in there._

_“Pete says you’re so fucking hot.”_

_As soon as Pete shapes his hand around his dick, warm and strong, Patrick moans and then everything starts to shift and blur._

He’s painfully aware that the kitchen is sliding away from him and he can feel the fabric of his comforter against his face. He ignores how the pit of his stomach feels like it’s being torn out when he realises that was just another dream and that everything he was just feeling has disappeared. Almost everything. He’s still incredibly turned on.

When he opens his eyes, Pete is lying opposite him, head propped up on his hand and grinning hard at Patrick so it seems he’s in obnoxious mode today.

“Another dirty dream, Patrick? You were making those little noises again.”  
“Were you watching me sleep? You fucking weirdo!“ Patrick snaps, completely ignoring the fact that he was just being the weirdo to beat all weirdoes by dreaming about doing delicious things with his friend. “Can’t I have some peace?”  
“Dude. Why so offended? Must have been a really dirty dream. What was it?” Patrick ignores him. Pete glances down in the direction of Patrick’s crotch and wiggles his eyebrows. “You pitching a tent?”

Patrick takes a swipe at Pete with his foot and Pete is almost knocked out of the bunk. “Fuck off, Pete.”

“Fine. Enjoy your morning jerk off, Patrick,” he says and climbs out of Patricks bunk. Patrick rolls over and groans into his pillow. How can he possibly be having sex dreams about Pete when he has the ability to be so fucking annoying? He waits until he hears Pete go into the lounge before he shoves his hand in his boxers and comes in about thirty seconds.

*

The evening preceding that dream had been really enjoyable. He and Pete had sat in a diner for hours eating silly amounts of ice cream. They laughed and talked and Pete bounced around the booth, full of energy. Patrick’s sure that Pete is back to his usual over the top, donkey-laughing self and Pete even went home with a girl’s phone number scrawled on the back of a napkin. It was a great evening and Patrick fell into his bunk happy and exhausted.

After Patrick’s other dreams about Pete he felt a little weird. After this one he feels downright strange, uncomfortable and even a little perverted. It’s made worse when Pete spends the morning teasing him, running through a long list of possible sexual positions, kinks, or celebrities that he thinks Patrick could have been dreaming about. Patrick is almost grateful that he’s so far off the mark. 

Once again he can logically tell himself that his brain mixed up everything from his evening with Pete and gave him a skewed up version of it, and that maybe he just needs to get laid, but this time he can’t shake it. The dream was so vivid, felt so real, that Patrick can barely look at Pete without remembering the way his eyes glinted in his dream, the softness of his skin, and the way his mouth turned up at the corners into that dirty smile. 

How his brain turned normal things into a scenario that made Patrick that hard, he can’t quite understand, but he jerks off far too much thinking about it. Not that he would ever admit it.

He has to avoid Pete for nearly the whole day to hide his embarrassment and only hangs out with him when absolutely necessary for some sort of band obligations. He blushes hard every time he makes eye contact with him. He feels as if he spends too much time with him Pete will be able to read his mind. 

That night, when they play, Pete presses into his neck and breathes against him like he always does. Patrick has to close his eyes and concentrate all of his will and use all available energy on ignoring the way Pete’s warm breath feels on his neck, the smell of Pete’s sweat, how close Pete stands to him and how overwhelming it feels. It takes more energy than he has ever needed for a performance to act normally and remember all the words and chords and by the end of it he’s exhausted.

By the second and third day Patrick thinks he’s doing a pretty good job at acting normal, though he’s still finding himself staring at Pete. He’s not checking him out, though after that last dream it would be warranted. No, he’s trying to figure out why his brain has made the awkward decision to give him dirty dreams about _Pete_ when it could be literally almost anyone else.

Pete notices his change in mood and how Patrick has distanced himself. And he’s caught Patrick staring too. Soon Patrick can see Pete observing him with a furrowed brow. The furrowed brow switches to a very fake looking grin if Patrick catches his eye, and once Pete gave him the thumbs up which was just weird.

After a while it gets easier. When he puts enough time between him and the dream it fades away. He let himself jerk off to it at the start, but as time passes he stops thinking about it, he _forces_ himself to go back to his usual fantasies when he pleasures himself. 

He knows he’s been acting like a shit friend, especially taking it out on Pete by avoiding him, so he mentally slaps himself across the face and tells himself to get on with it. He lets Pete back into his life, and his bed for night-time cuddles, and he feels much better when he gets back to being a friend again.

He and Pete are backstage before a show. It’s the boring part of the day – between sound check and show time – and Pete is curled up with his head in Patrick’s lap. Pete is often a joking, jumping, frantic ball of energy. He’s antsy and anxious and restless at times and to see him so calm is always a special thing. He’s lies motionless while Patrick cards softly through his hair. Pete seems pleased too as he lets out a happy little sigh.

“Patrick?” Pete asks quietly.  
“Yeah, Pete?”  
“Are you still having those dreams?” His voice is cautious and slow. Patrick stills, his hand stops petting Pete’s hair and he knows that Pete has probably noticed the sudden tension in his body.  
“Not really.” It’s not a lie, not really. He hasn’t had a dream about Pete in _that way_ since the last one. He had one where he was hunting werewolves with Pete but that doesn’t really count.  
“Do you want to talk about them? I know I made of fun of you like it was a kinky dream but if it’s bad stuff you can tell me.”  
“It’s fine.” Lies lies lies.  
“You can though. I got really worried after the last one. You sort of checked out for a while.”

Patrick feels a pang of guilt. With all his internal freaking out and withdrawing from the world he forgot that Pete is actually a loyal friend who would worry about him. Pete always has enough to worry about without adding to it, and he feels bad.  
“Yeah, it’s just weird stuff. Nothing to get stressed over.”

Pete sits back up so that he can sit back onto his calves. He makes a serious face like he’s considering a hundred things and then launches himself at Patrick, throwing his arms around Patrick’s neck for a hug. Patrick gets a fright from the sudden onslaught of hair and arms and legs but he hugs back. Pete mumbles something that sounds like “just want you to be okay” into Patrick’s neck. Then, Pete being Pete, the serious and solemn hug turns into a wiggling and obnoxious one where he’s all the fuck over Patrick, and Pete ends up more of less straddling Patrick’s thighs.

“Just tell me if you want to talk, okay? I worry about my Pattycakes,” he grins.  
Patrick gives him a tight lipped smile in return and hopes that counts as enough.

“I’m going to go take a piss and then find some food. I’ll bring you something back if there’s any nice things to eat in catering.”  
And then Pete is gone, and Patrick is alone wondering how he managed to get to this point in his life.

*

_Patrick is sitting on the sofa in the lounge of the bus and Pete is sitting right in his lap, straddling Patrick’s thighs. Their chests are pressed close together and they’re both stripped to their underwear. Pete’s skin feels boiling hot everywhere Patrick is touching him, which is a lot of places. Patrick has to remind himself to breathe, and through his nose, because his mouth is locked to Pete’s._

_The kisses are slow and deep, drawn out, there’s no rush to them but there’s a lot of intensity. Every time Pete runs his tongue over Patrick’s lower lip, a little bolt of electricity head straight for Patrick’s dick._

_One of Patrick’s hands is resting on Pete’s bare thigh with Pete’s fingers linked between his. The other locks into Pete’s hair. He tugs lightly on a fistful. Pete moans, so he does it again, and he never knew Pete would like having his hair pulled. Pete’s free hand is tracing over Patricks skin; his arm, shoulder, jaw, chest, stomach. The hand never stops moving for too long and it doesn’t tickle but it sends a wonderful sensation through Patrick’s body._

_“Fuck. Patrick. You’re so gorgeous.” Pete kisses his way along Patrick’s jaw to his ear. He sinks his teeth gently into the flesh of Patrick’s earlobe and then carries on, licking down Patrick’s neck and throat._

_Patrick opens his eyes and the sight in front of him turns him on even more, if that’s even possible. Pete’s dark skin is a stark contrast against his own ever-too-pale complexion. Pete’s hair is messed to bits from Patrick tugging on it but it looks good on him. There’s little piles of clothes strewn across the floor where they have been removed and then abandoned, and the television shows the home screen of a movie that’s long since been forgotten._

_Pete is wearing those red boxer briefs that Patrick has always found stupidly hot, so he reaches down to grab a handful of Pete’s ass through them. Pete moans and it vibrates through Patrick’s throat where he’s currently sucking a hickey. It’s a louder moan that Patrick would have expected and he can’t help but think about the fact that they are practically naked and on the sofa of the shared lounge. Anyone could walk in. But he’s not sure he cares if it means stopping this._

_“What if someone comes in, Pete?”_  
“Everyone is out. It’s fine.”  
“But-“  
“Shh, Patrick.” Pete leans up and puts his finger to Patrick’s lips to shush him. “It’s okay. No one will be back for hours.” The corners of his mouth turn up into a lazy grin. “Now, I think it’s time we got to the bit where you fuck me.” 

_Patrick doesn’t have time to freak out, or even to come all over himself at that ridiculously hot thought of fucking Pete, because Pete is kissing him again and humming happily against his mouth. Pete only pulls away to reach over to pull something out of the pocket of his jeans which are crumpled at the other end of the sofa. It’s lube and a condom and Patrick’s whole body shivers at the thought._

_“So glad we decided to fuck out here, instead of in a bunk,” he says as he nuzzles against Patrick’s jaw, his dirty smile never faltering. He presses the lube into Patrick’s hand and yes, he wants this. “Can’t wait for you to work me open, get me all ready for you. Can’t wait to feel your cock in my ass.”_

_Patrick closes his eyes for a second and he has to remind himself to breathe again, because this seems to actually be happening. Pete kisses him again and grinds down into his lap until their cocks drag together and it’s perfect._

_Pete licks his lips, running his tongue over them slowly, and Patrick really wants to lick them too. He goes to kiss Pete again but everything goes fuzzy and blurry and Patrick knows the drill by now._

It’s another stupid dream and he feels like his brain is betraying him. He rolls over, struggling to breath, the memory of Pete all over his skin is still so vivid. He scrunches his eyes shut trying to commit every detail to memory because he knows how dreams escape. He expects to find Pete in his bed like every other time he’s had an inappropriate dream about his friend, but he’s alone. Thankfully. 

Relieved to be on his own, he sticks his hand into his pyjama pants and curls his hand around his dick. A single stroke is enough to take the edge off and he bites his lip to keep quiet. He’s uncomfortably turned on, and still so hard he’s surprised that wasn’t a wet dream. Before he can touch himself any further, Pete’s voice breaks his concentration from outside of his bunk, and ruins his nice time.

“Dude. Are you up?” 

Patrick holds his breath, hoping he can pretend to be asleep is he doesn’t make a sound. It doesn’t work. 

“What were you dreaming about this time? It sounded like you were being strangled.”

Patrick panics. He’s burning with shame. He’s so worked up that he knows his face must be puce, he doesn’t want Pete to see him like this. He knows how obvious it will be and he can’t handle Pete’s teasing this morning. “I’m fine. I- I just need to back asleep. Dreamt I was being chased by a dog. Let me sleep?”

Pete is quiet for a second and Patrick holds his breath. He needs Pete to leave or he’s going to die from not jerking off. It’s possible.

“Okay.” Is all Pete says and Patrick hears him moving away. 

Patrick waits for what feels like a million years, until he can’t hear a sound from the rest of the bus. Then he stuffs the corner of his comforter into his mouth to muffle any sounds he might make and jerks off like there’s no tomorrow. He’s never been so quiet jerking off in his life. He’s never come so hard in his life.

*

Patrick can’t face Pete at all after that dream. He decides to hide from the world and shuts himself inside his bunk. He’s so ashamed that he feigns illness so that everyone will leave him be, says he has a raging temperature and a sore throat so that he doesn’t even have to talk to people.

The guys leave him alone with a few ‘get well’s but nothing much more. Pete wants to play nurse maid which makes it worse. He tries to cheer Patrick up, brings him soup and comic books, wants to get into his bunk and cuddle him better. Patrick has to send him away each time and he looks more and more like a sad, eyeliner-ed, kicked puppy.

It sucks that Pete feels hurt but Patrick just can’t face him so it’s better off this way. 

Patrick spends hours on the internet doing any and all research he can. He trawls through medical websites, forums on dream interpretations, and even details of local therapists, just in case.

He stays in his bunk all day, not even getting out to eat. He had previously sent Pete away when he tried to bring Patrick soup. He almost regrets that when his stomach is empty and growling until he remembers an emergency stash of chocolate bars he has hidden down the side of his mattress. At least he won’t starve to death now, not yet anyway. 

He eventually has to move to go to the bathroom, but he waits until he’s certain that everyone is in the front lounge. He slips out of his bunk quickly, making sure to stay as quiet as possible. He pees and then washes his hands. He checks himself in the mirror and takes note of the dark circles under his eyes and an even paler complexion than usual. It makes sense- stress and worry, lack of sleep, junk food – of course he looks like shit.

On his way back to his bunk he passes the lounge door and it’s open a crack. He can hear voices inside. Pete and Andy are talking and Patrick can hear just a portion of the conversation over the television. 

“I’m just worried about him,” Pete says, and his voice is full of concern. Patrick’s stomach twists.  
“Just give him time. You know how hard a long tour can be.”  
“Maybe.” Pete doesn’t sound convinced at all.

Patrick goes back to his bunk and feels worse than ever. He racks his brain for any reason his subconscious is doing this to him and comes up with nothing. He just wants it back the way it was when he wasn’t constantly freaking out over Pete and feeling like the world’s biggest pervert.

He pulls out his laptop again and opens a new Word document. He decides to make a list of pros and cons for how he can possibly solve this problem. He writes out why it could be a terrible idea to tell Pete what has been happening; he could lose his friend and make things very awkward between them. On the ‘pro’ side he thinks maybe Pete could just turn it into a joke and after weeks of teasing it might just disappear.

Patrick definitely wishes he could talk this out with someone, feeling that it may help if he can say it out loud and bounce it around his brain a bit. Though he can’t think of anyone he could trust with this level of information, not even Joe or Andy.

Patrick lies down and tries to take a nap, but fails miserably. He’s tired but he’s almost afraid to sleep lest he dream about something even hotter, like rimming Pete or something. Oh god.

His phone buzzes beside him and it makes him jump. When he checks the screen, it’s a text from Pete.

_if u cnt spk cn u txt?_

Patrick sighs. He’s been half waiting for this. He told Pete he needed to rest his voice but he sort of assumed that wouldn’t stop him for long. He begins to type.

_sure. What’s up?_

Patrick puts his phone down and waits for the hail of texts he knows will come.

_is smthng wrng?_  
R u ok?  
Shld we b worried? 

Patrick stares at the screen. How does he answer any of that? Is something wrong? Yes, he’s been having pornographic dreams about his best friend. Is he ok? No, not really. Should they be worried? Well, Patrick is worried about himself so they may as well join the party. 

He doesn’t answer any of it though.

_I’m fine. Just have a lot on my mind._

Patrick hopes that might be end of it but thirty seconds later Pete’s replies come in.

_s it da tour?  
n e ting I cn do? _

Patrick sighs again. Apart from someone washing his brain out with soap there’s nothing much that anyone can do. Before he can replay again, he receives another text from Pete.

_cn I cm n 2 c u?_

Patrick knows he’s going to have to give in or he’ll spend the rest of the night texting and trying to decipher Pete’s ridiculously typed text messages.

_ok_

Patrick promptly deletes the Word document containing his list of pros and cons. He really doesn’t want Pete to see that, and it hadn’t helped him come up with a plan anyway. It’s only a short minute before he hears Pete bustling down the narrow corridor between bunks and then his curtain flies open.

“Hey,” Pete says. He sounds quiet and careful, but the opposite in his movement as he awkwardly crawls into Patrick’s bunk, ass in the air, nearly knocking the laptop out of the bunk in the process. He settles at the end of the bunk, his back to the wall and his knees pulled up to his chest. “What’s up?”  
“Nothing,” Patrick lies. “Just feeling sick today.”

Pete looks at him for a long time. “I know you’re lying. It’s okay though.” Patrick says nothing in replay, and when Pete is met with silence he continues. “If something is wrong, you can talk about it, you know. If the tour is getting to you, you can talk to me.”

“It’s fine, Pete. Really. I just have a lot on my mind.”

Pete looks like he’s not really convinced. “Are you still having those dreams?” Patrick winces involuntarily at the question, and it gives him away. Pete looks relieved that he’s figured it out, but that only lasts for a second before he’s back to being concerned. “Are they bad dreams? What are they about? Monsters? People dying? I used to have dreams where I was screaming about killing myself and no one even looked up. It was all anxiety stuff. I know about bad dreams. Please let me help you.” He stretches his leg out and tips his bare foot against Patrick’s socked one. It’s a comforting gesture and Patrick manages to wiggle his foot back against Pete’s.

Patrick feels awful. He knows that Pete used to have horrific nightmares that affected him for a long time, so it must be really hard for him to think Patrick is going through similar. 

“They’re not like that. Please don’t worry, Pete.”  
“Then what? And, dude, if I see you like this I’m going to worry no matter what you say. Tell me.”  
“It’s just-“ Patrick has no idea what to say, no idea how to say enough to get Pete off his case without giving away what a pervert he feels like. Without thinking too hard, he says, “It was a dream about you.”  
“About me? Like, bad things?”  
“Not really.”

Pete switches from concerned to confused. “I don’t understand.”

“It was a kissing dream. I dreamed I kissed you,” Patrick says, the words jumbling out before he can stop himself. “I freaked out.”  
“A kissing dream? About me?” Pete’s eyebrows shoot up into his hair like he can’t believe it. “Wait you freaked out over dreaming about kissing me? Was it that terrible?” He sounds hurt. He stares down at his lap and looks miserable.

And, fantastic! Patrick can now add hurting Pete’s feeling to the list of shitty things for today. “No.”  
“I don’t get it.”

For fuck sake. He’s actually going to have to say it. “It wasn’t that terrible, it was that _good_.”

Pete looks back up at him. “Oh.” He looks just as dumbfounded as before but Patrick can almost see the little wheels turning in Pete’s head, even under his emo haircut. He seems to figure it out though. His mouth twitches like he wants to smile, but he must be trying to spare Patrick’s feelings because all he says is “Oh,” again.

“Yeah.” Patrick closes his eyes and drops his head to his chest, and covers his face with his hands.  
He’s ashamed and he’s waiting for the teasing to start and probably never stop until they’re old and retired.

He can hear Pete shuffling, and the rustle of fabric. He feels the mattress shift from Pete moving and Patrick is not entirely surprised when he feels Pete plonk himself down right beside him. Patrick opens his eyes and Pete is waiting for him to say something.

“Pete, if you’re just coming over beside me so you can make fun of me, just don’t okay. That’s shitty. You can do that from over there.”  
I’m not going to make fun of you.”  
“Why? It would make sense.”  
“Why didn’t you just tell me?” he says and bumps Patrick on the shoulder. In all of Patrick’s freaking out he didn’t really consider the fact that Pete Wentz is pretty unshockable. Patrick relaxes a little. That’s the best possible reaction he could have hoped for.  
“I thought it would sound creepy and weird.” Pete takes his hand a squeezes briefly.  
“Dude, it’s _me_ , I’m not going to judge,” he says. “And anyways, I’m always going to be creepier. Don’t forget that,” he says and he sounds almost proud. Patrick relaxes a little more and feels the tension fall out of his shoulders. “But if you want to tell me what you dreamed about, then we can see if I really am the creepiest?” 

Patrick winces again. It’s one thing telling Pete that the dreams even happened. It’s another thing to give him the intricate details. “I can’t. You teased me when you think it was a sexy dream about a celebratory, I can imagine how much you would make fun of me if it’s about you.”  
“Wait. You said kissing dream. It was sexy?” Pete’s eyes go wide again.  
“Pete!”  
“C’mon. Please?”  
“You really want to know?”  
“Are you fucking kidding me? I usually want to know when someone is talking about me, never mind having sexy dreams about me.” Pete’s enthusiasm and his big cheesy grin puts Patrick more and more at ease and he thinks that it might be okay to tell him a little bit of it.  
“Okay. The first dream I had, I was sitting in your lap-“  
“Kinky!”  
Patrick ignores him. “And we were about to kiss and then I woke up.”  
“Boo.” Pete gives him a definite thumbs down and actually sounds disappointed. “What about the rest.”  
“Well in the next one, we were sitting in the lounge after everyone went to bed, and we made out.”  
“Hey, awesome,” he says and punches the air and leers. “I bet I’m an amazing dream kisser.”  
Patrick laughs. He doesn’t answer because it will mean he has to think about how good Pete really was.  
“What about the rest?” Pete asks again, but Patrick can’t say any more. He shakes his head at Pete and Pete gets it. He doesn’t probe any further.

“Look, Patrick. Don’t worry about this stuff. You can’t control your dreams. Just don’t fucking lock yourself away, okay? Believe me, I’ve done that too, and apparently people worry.” Pete gives him a reassuring smile and Patrick feels so much better than when Pete first crawled into his bunk.  
“Thanks.” Patrick feels better. Still like a bad friend and a pervert, but better.  
“Is that all you’ve eaten today?” Pete indicates to the candy bar wrappers on the bed. “Come on. There’s pizza.”

Patrick nods, and only partially grudgingly. It’s relieving to have told Pete, even if he’s completely embarrassed that he even had to. He leaves his bunk hoping that this can be the beginning of the end of his subconscious trying to ruin his life.

*

_Patrick is on all fours and Pete is under him on his back and breathing hard. They’re both naked and sweaty and Patrick has two fingers in Pete’s ass right up to the knuckle. Pete reacts to every little twist and thrust that Patrick makes, writhing and pushing down against Patrick’s hand. Patrick can feel his fingers press against Pete’s prostate when he curls them, and from the increasingly pornographic sounds Pete’s making, he knows he can too. When Pete asks for more, he adds a third finger willingly._

_“Ready?” Patrick asks.  
Pete leers at him. “Are you?”_

_Patrick doesn’t speak, he just curls his fingers again in response and Pete groans. It’s not that Patrick’s not ready, he’s so very ready. It’s more that he hasn’t done this for a long time, and it’s Pete; he wants it to be perfect._

_“Want to flip over?”  
“No. Want to see you. Want to see your face when you come.” Yes, Patrick wants to see that too, to see Pete when everything else falls away and he loses himself._

_He pulls his fingers slowly out of Pete and begins to put a condom on. Instead, Pete sits up and takes it from him with a smirk. He places it between his lips and then slides down Patrick’s dick, rolling it down with his mouth. When he gets to the base, he pulls off and then sinks down a second time, dragging his tongue along the underside. Patrick’s hips stutter and he hisses out a sharp breath. He fits a finger under Pete’s chin and Pete comes up with that grin on his face again._

_“Just making sure it’s on,” he says, and Patrick pushes him gently backwards so that he’s on his back again. If they don’t get going with this soon, he might give in and just let Pete blow him._

_“It’s on.” Patrick coats his sheathed dick in a squirt of lube and looks down at Pete. He’s beautiful; he’s got both hands behind his head, and his knees bent and spread apart. Patrick knows that he’s displaying himself like this on purpose from the smirk still playing on his lips, but that changes into a gasp when Patrick lines up and presses inside Pete._

_Patrick pushes forward slowly, incrementally, and when he’s fully inside, the feeling of being surrounded by Pete’s slick heat is almost overwhelming. Patrick reaches between them and touches at the smooth skin around Pete’s ass where they’re joined together and it feels obscene. When he moves again it’s in small, slow motions. He’s testing the water, taking it slow so that he can take in all the details. Pete pulls him to kiss him again and it’s messy and uncoordinated. Pete wraps his legs around Patrick’s waist, gets his hands on Patrick’s hips and Patrick slides deeper inside him._

_Pete looks desperate and wrecked and beautiful. He leans his head all the way back so that his neck is elongated and Patrick leans down and drags his teeth over Pete’s throat. He makes a broken moan which gets lost in Patrick’s mouth when he kisses him again, and Patrick needs more, wants all of it. He grips a hand around Pete’s thigh and holds on tight. He wants to touch all of Pete’s skin at the same time, to climb all the way inside him and stay there. He gets his hand around Pete’s dick and starts to jerk him in time with his thrusts. He can feel Pete pushing back down against him, countering each of Patrick’s slow thrusts, and it makes him go deeper._

_With the increased thrusts, Pete is calling out a slew of_ oh god _s and_ fuck _s, and then he’s coming, eyes scrunched shut and lips bitten, clenching around Patrick’s dick and spilling onto Patrick’s hand._

 _Patrick is so close now, he can feel the heat of his orgasm building. He’s rutting into Pete harder and faster and he’s nearly there. Pete is whispering hoarsely, words of endearment and encouragement, when the room shifts and falls away_ and no, no, no, this can’t possibly be a dream. Why is sit a dream?.

Patrick starts to become aware that he’s waking up and his brain tries to desperately claw itself back into his dream. He needs to remember the details of Pete’s skin, the sounds he made, the taste of his tongue. All of it was so real, and it’s disappearing fast. 

He’s so turned on he could cry. And it’s all made so much worse when he realises that not only is he rock hard with his hand already inside his pyjama pants, but that he’s sharing a hotel room with Pete, who is wide awake and staring at him. This can’t be happening.

“Patrick?” Pete’s voice is very low, very tentative. “Are you okay?”

“Please, Pete. No. I can’t.” He knows that Pete knows. It must be written all over his face how fucking desperately aroused he is. And because the universe hates him, Pete gets out of his bed and crosses the room to sit on the edge of Patrick’s. 

“Let me help. Can I?” Pete’s voice is very cautious, though it’s not as if Patrick can run away in the state that he’s in.

Patrick just blinks at him. He’s obviously so turned on that he’s hallucinating, or else he’s still asleep and this is some sort of dream-within-a-dream inception shit. Because Pete is offering to _help_ him.

“Pete-“

“Just. If you want, I can help.” Patrick can barely breathe, let alone think clearly. His other option would be to go jerk off alone in the bathroom, because not coming at all right now is not an option. 

As strange as it feels, he finds himself nodding slowly and then Pete is climbing under the covers to lie beside him.

Pete leans in close, close enough that he could kiss Patrick, but instead he just presses his forehead against Patrick’s neck. Patrick is relieved, and not just because it feels so good to have Pete’s hot breath on his skin, but because he can’t quite stand for Pete to look at him while he does his. Patrick quite believe it when Pete snakes his hand down under the covers, over Patrick’s belly and inside the elastic waistband of Patrick’s pyjama pants.

The skin of Pete’s hand is warm and a little sweaty as it wraps around Patrick’s dick. He’s still pretty hard from his dreams but when Pete tightens his grip and strokes, it’s no time before Patrick is completely hard again and huffing quick breaths. He closes his eyes and thinks back to his dream that was so real and so vivid. He thinks of the sounds that Pete made when he twisted his fingers, the feeling of his dick enveloped in Pete, the heat that built so low in his abdomen when he was about to come. 

Right there in the hotel room, Pete’s strokes increase and he swipes his thumb over the slit. The guitar calluses on Pete’s hand drag in just the right way, and Patrick thinks of the look on Pete’s face when he came in his dream and then he’s grunting, hips bucking off the bed and coming all over Pete’s hand.

Patrick lies there, mind completely blank for several minutes, while he struggles come back to reality. He’s breathing hard and fast and it takes him a moment to realise that Pete is also breathing heavily, open mouthed against his neck. 

“Pete?”

Pete doesn’t speak, doesn’t move, and just continues to breathe against Patrick’s skin until Patrick can feel Pete’s pulse racing where he’s still pressed against him. Pete must be just caught up in the moment, Patrick assumes. It’s a very intimate thing to share between friends, even ones a close as he and Pete are.

“It’s okay,” Pete says, though he doesn’t sound sure at all. Patrick’s not sure if Pete is talking to him or to himself.

“Pete?”

“It’s okay,” he says again. Pete peels himself from Patrick’s neck very carefully and slips out of the bed. He gestures towards the bathroom and seems very distracted. “I just gotta. I’ll be right back.”

Patrick stares after him, still orgasm-high, but now slightly anxious that Pete might be freaked out by what just happened. It takes Pete a few moments to return to the bedroom, though it feels like longer to Patrick, and while he’s gone, Patrick cleans himself up with a dirty shirt from his suitcase. He hopes that Pete is just washing up, or taking a few minutes to compose himself. Anything other than over thinking what just happened really.

When Pete does return, he gets back into Patrick’s rather than his own and snuggles up to Patrick as if nothing happened between them. 

“Bus call is in a few hours. Maybe we can get some more sleep. I hope I helped.”  
“Yeah, you did. Thanks. Really.”

Patrick pulls Pete’s arm around him, and it’s nothing that they wouldn’t normally do when Pete sleeps in his bed, but it feels different to Patrick this morning.

*

Patrick is starting to realise things. He’s starting to fit them all together like a puzzle. Once he sees them together he can’t un-see them, and it’s like putting on his glasses after a full day of struggling to get around without them.

He likes Pete. Like, actually likes him. After all of that denial, he’s finally seen the light.

He’s run through each of his dreams, through all of the details that he can still remember and compiled everything. The dreams weren’t just Patrick’s subconscious telling him he needs to get fucked, there was too much love in there, too many sweet, close moments. And they were all with Pete, every single last one of them. If Patrick needed to get laid, his brain could have provided him with any number of substitutes, like models, or movie stars, or the girl who worked at the venue they played last week with the short skirt and the tongue piercing. No, his brain chose carefully, kept enough of Pete’s personality in all of the dreams for him to be certain. He just didn’t know it until now. 

He feels really stupid for not seeing it earlier. How did he not know?

After Pete _helped_ him – Patrick keeps thinking of it as helping rather than just getting him off, it seems easier to digest that way somehow - Patrick goes back to silently freaking out and way beyond anything that had come before. 

He thinks he’s doing a better job than before. He hopes he is. He doesn’t want to draw any attention to his freak-out by hiding from the world like last time so he does the opposite, barely ever leaving the lounge almost to prove that all his well. He tries his best to hold normal, everyday conversations about normal, everyday things like breakfast cereal, hoodies, soundcheck. It really doesn’t matter.  
He needs to prove to himself and to Pete that all is well even though it’s very, very not. He’s freaking out.

This time, Pete seems to be joining him with some grade A freaking out of his own.

Pete is awkward and full of fake smiles when he’s around Patrick, and he’s not around him as much as he would have been, choosing to hangout in his bunk. He’s back to forgetting to eat, wearing the same disgusting hoody for days on end and hiding away. If Patrick didn’t know that Pete was having a meltdown over their friendship being in ruins, he would swear that Pete was love-sick. But he knows better. He’s avoiding Patrick and not doing a good job of hiding it. 

Patrick’s heart is close to breaking. He wishes he‘d never had stupid dreams about Pete. He wishes he had never told Pete about them. And most of all he wishes he had never let Pete help him out because that was a poison chalice. It felt so good for those few minutes and then his world fell apart. They haven’t had a hotel night since, but Patrick suspects that Pete might break from tradition and swap with Andy so that he doesn’t have to share with Patrick again. 

The show tonight is phenomenal. Pete is in rare form, as he spins around and jumps and twirls. He plays lying flat on his back on the stage, staring at the ceiling of the venue like he’s miles away. He’s something else to watch. He still presses his mouth to Patrick’s neck when they play and Patrick still has to channel all of his concentration into playing like Pete’s warm breath on his skin isn’t doing crazy things to his insides. 

Before their last song, Pete makes a little motivational speech as he often does, and Patrick generally quite likes to hear them. Tonight it hit’s him hard. 

“Always remember to listen to your heart,” he says to the crowd who scream and holler in response. “Even if something is really scary that you should do it anyway. Especially if something is scary, because fear shouldn’t get between you and something that might make you unbelievably happy. Take a chance on the things that you want. Don’t let those opportunities get away from you. What have you got to lose? It might end up being the best decision of your life.”

Patrick holds his breath while Pete preaches, and feels like he’s almost talking to him. Patrick decides he should maybe take some of Pete’s speech for himself this time, and figure out a way to deal with his problem, because the way things are, nothing is making him happy. 

Pete finishes his little speech and Patrick swears he gives Patrick a quick sideways glance as he does but then it’s gone. The crowd go ape shit as they launch into ‘Saturday’ and Pete is off spinning again before throwing himself into the pit to get mauled by rapturous kids. 

When the show is over Patrick is resolute that he needs to say something, anything, to Pete. He needs to talk to him so that they can clear the air and get passed this. Only then can Patrick move on and they can go back to being best friends like they should be.

*

Patrick gets delayed talking with some fans just outside the hotel. He really just wants to get inside and into his room, but he’s polite and makes sure he takes pictures and signs things and says thank you to anyone who’s wanting to interact with him. He will always give fans the time even if he really wants to curl up into himself and never come out. 

When he gets up to the room, he’s surprised to find Pete already there. He really had expected that Pete would keep his distance, but here he is, and Patrick is both relieved and terrified. 

The hotel is fully booked and they have been given a triple room rather than a twin, which is not problem, no one ever minds that. It usually just means an argument over who gets to the lovely spacious double bed to themselves, a complete luxury compared to the compact bunks of the bus. But Pete is sitting on the double bed, shoes and socks off, and legs outstretched, and Patrick couldn’t care less. He’s fiddling with his phone but puts it away as soon as Patrick enters the room.

“Hi, Pete.” Patrick dumps his bag on the floor and shucks off his coat. He’s not sure what to do next, he’s not sure where to start. He sits on the single bed opposite Pete’s.  
“Hey. Got delayed being a rockstar? I managed to give them the slip tonight.”  
“Something like that.” Patrick gives him a little smile and Pete returns it. Patrick kicks off his shoes and tries to get comfy on the bed but he knows he won’t settle until he talks to Pete or changes his mind and backs out entirely. “I liked your motivational speech tonight.”  
“You did?” Pete cocks him an eyebrow and turns his body more towards Patrick.  
“Yeah, uh.” He stops short. While he was resolute that he wanted to talk with Pete, he hadn’t actually decided what to say and how to say it. “You had the kids in the palm of your hand. I think everyone is going to go home and make a life changing decision.”  
“Good,” he says, but he seems distracted. “Maybe that was the plan.”

Patrick thinks it might be now or never. He’s only got so much time before he bottles out and loses his nerve. “Kinda felt like it was speaking to me. In a way. Sometimes I need a kick in the ass to do things. Important things. _Life changing_ things.”

Pete looks up at him, suddenly very interested. “Really? Cos it was sort of a little pep talk for myself. If I say it out loud then I’m more likely to do it. Pretty sure I always need a kick in the ass.” The last part is muttered like he’s more talking to himself than to Patrick.

Patrick tries to compile what he wants to say, like he was doing the whole time in the car from the venue, maybe put them into order, or some sort of structure. He keeps almost starting to speak and then changes his mind. 

Before he can begin, Pete takes a big breath and blurts out, “I can’t stop thinking about you,” and Patrick can’t remember a single thing he wanted to say anymore, because that’s the only thing he can think of. What? Pete continues. “Ever since we- ever since the hotel room. I mean, I always sort of thought about you. But now I _really_ can’t stop thinking about you.” 

Patrick stares blankly at him and Pete continues babbling. Pete can’t sit still, constantly moving so that he’s sitting with his legs outstretched, then his feet under him, his hands are in his lap and then he’s picking at a tear in his jeans, pulling out frayed threads and discarding them onto the carpet.

“When we-“ he cuts himself off and fidgets again. “When I offered to help you, I didn’t think-“ He sits on his hands to stop himself from fiddling with his jeans. “I don’t even fucking know what I was thinking, but I didn’t think I’d feel like this after.”  
“Like what?”  
“Like I can’t get you out of my head. I never thought it would be so hot to see you like that. I mean, I always had a little thing for you, but god. Not like this.”

Patrick just blinks and breathes and doesn’t really know how to do anything else while his brain runs through what he’s just heard. Pete has been thinking about him. Pete was turned on by him. Pete has been thinking about him and got turned on by him. Huh. How about that. When he was gathering his thoughts to speak with Pete he never in a million years that Pete would think the same as him, that Pete was interested in him. Maybe Pete was love-sick after all.

Pete’s got his big, doleful eyes on Patrick, and he’s waiting for Patrick to say something. 

Patrick’s brain and mouth are not working together, not at all. All he manages to say is, “Really?”  
Pete looks at him like he’s an idiot, disbelief written all over his face. “Yes. Don’t you remember I could hardly breathe? I was so fucking turned on.”

“Were you that turned on?”  
“How dumb are you, Trick? I had to go to the bathroom and change my pyjamas. Yes, I was _that_ turned on.” When Patrick thinks back he remembers it now. Pete had been wearing his old, bobbly Ninja Turtles pyjama pants when he left the bedroom and went into the bathroom. When he came back he was wearing grey cotton sweat pants. Patrick remembered the rub of the cotton on his foot when Pete cuddled into him. He hadn’t put two and two together until now. He hadn’t thought that Pete was turned on at all, never mind that much. It wasn’t a possibility. 

Patrick can’t quite believe it, he feels like it might be a mix up or a joke. His mouth is still in neutral. “Really?”  
“Yes. Really. I came in my _pants_ for god’s sake. I haven’t done that since I was fifteen years old and touched a naked boob for the first time.” Patrick laughs and that and it breaks the tension in the room. Pete grins. “You turn me on. Big time.” Patrick reaches out to take Pete’s hand and gives it a little squeeze.  
“Well, Pete,” he says. Pete drops his head. He’s gone back to being serious and worried despite what Patrick hoped was a reassuring gesture. “In case you hadn’t noticed, what with all my porno dreams about you and all, you turn me on too.” Pete looks up at him again and there’s a smile there but it’s still a weak one.

“It’s not just that I got turned on though, Patrick. It’s more than that. You know that right?” He squeezes Patrick’s hand back. “It’s love and shit.”  
It’s a huge thing for Pete to say but Patrick can’t help but smile. “Love and shit? Why, Pete, that’s the most romantic thing anyone has even said to me.”  
“Hey, fuck you,” he says and he doesn’t sound pissed off, more frustrated. He throws his hand in the air like’s it’s a lost cause. “You try declaring your undying love for your best friend. It’s fucking terrifying.” Patrick grins harder, because Pete is an endearing lost cause.  
“I get it. It’s love and shit for me too, Pete.” Before Patrick can say anything else, Pete launches himself at Patrick and climbs into his lap. He plants a smacking wet kiss on Patrick’s lips, as loud and obnoxious as any of the play-kisses Pete used to give him before any of this started.

“I fucking knew it,” he says, grinning for ear to ear. “You fucking love me, Patrick Stump.”  
“Maybe a bit,” Patrick counters, though he’s wondering if he should rethink it if Pete is going to be so smug about it. He doesn’t get the chance to make any further objections though, because Pete kisses him again, a real one this time, one that takes Patrick’s breath away and empties his head of everything but the hot tingle of Pete’s mouth. It’s slow and soft and almost chaste at first but soon Patrick parts his lips and then Pete’s tongue is right there in Patrick’s mouth. 

Unlike all of Patrick’s kisses with Dream-Pete, this one feel like they are equal footing. In each of the dreams, Pete seemed to know far more about what was going to happen than Patrick did, and Patrick had to scramble to catch up. But right here, in real life, they are exploring each other together. Pete kisses him so softly, full lips gliding against Patrick’s easily, and he slips his arms around Patrick’s waist. Taking two handfuls of Pete’s hoody, he hauls him closer and when Pete leans himself in, Patrick lets himself topple back so that they’re lying together. The kiss slows down to gentle open mouthed kisses and Patrick doesn’t ever want it to end.

Patrick’s a little heartbroken when Pete pulls back, but he looks at Patrick thoughtfully. “Was that okay? Like your dream?”

Patrick feels a little dazed. His brain is a little bit slower than usual after that mind melting kiss. He thinks again about the kisses he shared with Pete in his dreams and they were good, very good, but they weren’t real. And this is. “Better,” he concludes. Pete flashes a wide, toothy grin and Patrick melts inside knowing that he’s the one that caused Pete to be so happy.

“What else did you dream about? Want to tell me yet?”  
“We made out-”  
“I know that. I want to know the rest. Please?”  
“We made out,” he starts again and ignores Pete when he makes a face. “And we were naked except for our underwear.” Patrick suddenly feels very turned on at both the memory of the dream and the thought of maybe doing that with Pete for real.  
“Fuck. I want that.” Pete’s voice is full of awe, like that’s the best idea he’s ever heard. “What else?”

Patrick feels breathless when he thinks of the things he dreamt about, especially now that there’s a possibility they may happen. “You told me all these dirty things you wanted.”  
“How dirty?”  
Patrick swallows hard and when he speaks his voice is much lower than before. “You told me you wanted me to fuck you, and that you wanted to see me come.” Pete moans softly and shuts his eyes for a second.

“God. Fuck. I don’t think you should tell me any more unless we’re gonna do it.”  
“Do what?”  
“Any of it. All of it.” He pushes Patrick’s shoulder until Patrick is on his back and then throws his leg over him so he’s straddling Patrick waist. “Let’s start with this,” he says as he ducks his head down to give Patrick a kiss that has _filthy_ written all over it. 

His lips that were so gentle before, now have energy and force behind them and Patrick meets him halfway, swirling his tongue in Pete’s mouth, licking into the corners. Teeth are added too and Pete nips at Patrick’s bottom lip, catching it and biting into it softly. 

Patrick slides his hands around to Pete’s back and then down over the curve of his ass. He squeezes through the denim and Pete grinds down against him. Their hips meet and it’s not a perfect angle and there’s too many clothes in the way but Patrick can feel how hard Pete is, and it sends shudders through him; he’s turning Pete on. He’s not sure that will ever get old.

Patrick slides down the zipper of Pete’s hoody and Pete shrugs it off. Pete peels his t-shirt off over his head without any prompting from Patrick and sits back up straight. Patrick can now get a good look at that gorgeous dark and inked skin that he’s been thinking about for so long, and he needs to touch it so badly. First he traces his fingers over the batheart and then along that V-line that’s so hot it’s unfair. He traces it down until it disappears into Pete’s underwear and then lets his hands travel back up and over Pete’s abs, ribs, and chest.

“I want the making out in our underwear,” Pete says, and oh god, so does Patrick. He ignores any body confidence demons he has and lets Pete inch his shirt up his belly until he has to lift his head and shoulders off the bed to get it off entirely. He lets Pete skim his fingers over the curve of his belly and hips and up to his chest, though ’lets’ might be the wrong word, because Patrick really wants it. When Pete gets to the top he ducks down to kiss him again before trailing both hands back down to Patrick’s waistband. He rubs over the line of soft hair and then begins to pull at Patrick’s belt and fly. He has an awed expression on his face the whole time as he pulls Patrick’s jeans open enough that he can rub his finger over the outline of Patrick’s erection through the cotton boxer shorts. Patrick is just about managing to breathe through it and when Pete shapes his hand around him, his breath catches and turns into a moan.

He does the same to Pete, carefully opening his jeans but because Pete always insists on wearing ones that are far too small for him, Patrick can’t quite get his hand in there. He settles for pressing the heel of his hand to Pete’s dick through the crotch of the pants. Pete’s eyes close and he bites down on his lip. 

“Jesus, Patrick,” he says. “Want the underwear making out thing. You gotta. We can’t-“ Pete sounds a little desperate already and Patrick can’t help but smirk.  
“Are you going to come in your pants again?”  
Pete laughs. “Maybe. I mean, it’s possible. You didn’t even touch me last time.” The end of Pete’s laugh turns into a gasp when Patrick presses his palm against him again.

“Okay, we gotta move this along,” Pete says and swings his leg back over Patrick so that he’s kneeling beside him. He wiggles and wriggles and pulls his stupidly skinny jeans off until he’s just wearing charcoal grey boxer briefs (not the red ones from Patrick’s dream, though he makes a note to make Pete wear them some other time) which also look so tight they should be illegal. He smirks as he goes for Patrick’s jeans and all Patrick has to do is lift his hips and they’re gone.

Patrick pulls Pete back down and this feels similar to his dream; soft, drawn out kisses, warm, sweat slicked skin against his, and the delicious rub of Pete’s hard dick against his own. It’s similar, but it’s so much better. Patrick rocks his hips up against Pete and the both moan. 

“God, Patrick. You have the best dreams,” Pete says as he moves his mouth to Patrick’s neck. “What happened next?”  
“I woke up.” Pete abruptly lifts himself up on his elbows to stare down at Patrick.  
“What? That’s awful. That’s such a tease. No wonder you were so fucking frustrated!” Pete looks devastated for him, but then his face softens. “Though it means we can make up the ending.” He grinds down onto Patrick again. “What do you want?”

Fuck. What does Patrick want? “Everything?” Pete laughs and kisses him. “I don’t care, Pete. I just want you.”

“Well then I’m going to suck you off until you scream,” he says with a grin. “But first the underwear make out sesh should really be a naked one.” Pete uses both hands to push Patrick’s boxers down until Patrick can kick them off. Patrick has seen Pete naked before – the perils (perks?) of living in a tiny shared space. But he’s never really _looked_ , he’s never allowed himself to. So when Pete finally gets those grey boxers off, Patrick’s breath catches; Pete is so beautiful. He’s lean muscle, dark ink, narrow hips and his dick is thick and blood flushed. He still has his big Wentz grin on when he spots Patrick checking him out and he’s checking Patrick out too. Pete climbs back over Patrick and the brush of Pete’s bare cock on his own sets of white lights behind his eyes. It’s glorious, and from the blissed-out look on Pete’s face he feels the same.

“Wait, what do you want, Pete?” 

Pete barely misses a beat before he answers. “Your mouth. On me. Anywhere. Anything with your fucking mouth. _Fuck_. We should have done this a long time ago.”  
“Wasn’t having dirty dreams about you a long time ago. Though maybe I should have been.”  
“You totally should have, and honestly I wish I could get in on that action and order some hot porno dreams about you.” Pete starts at Patrick’s collar bones and kisses and licks a pathway down his chest, stopping to flick his tongue over Patrick’s nipples, and then down to his belly where he circles his tongue along the flesh over and over again. “Though I probably don’t need them now,” he says, his voice muffled by skin. Pete knows about Patrick’s body image issues, and it makes heat prickle in Patrick’s chest that Pete takes his time to kiss and lick over his stomach and hips so lovingly. He makes his way down, and Patrick feels the press of Pete’s stubble on the inside of his thighs. Then Pete’s fingers and tongue and lips are all on Patrick’s dick at the same time and Patrick’s not sure if he should moan, or cry with happiness, or thank the heavens for sending him Pete.

Patrick pulls himself up onto his elbows so he can see. After all his dreaming and fantasising and jerking off to his imagination, he’s not going to miss the view when he has a front seat to a real Pete blowjob. Pete looks so sinful with his lips stretched around Patrick’s dick. His eyes are closed and he looks deep in concentration, a little furrow in his brow. He catches Patrick watching him work and while Patrick knows Pete can’t exactly smile, not with a dick in his mouth, his eyes twinkle, and for Patrick it’s the same. 

Patrick knows he was never going to last long. After weeks and weeks of dreaming about Pete, fantasising about him, jerking off to thoughts of him, to have Pete really here and doing such amazing things with his tongue, oh dear god, it’s just a matter of time before that gorgeous familiar heat builds low in his insides, swirling and bubbling.

Patrick throws his head back and his eyes roll backwards into his skull as he comes, and Pete stays where he is with his mouth still on Patrick, easing him through it. He feels lightheaded and fucked out as Pete releases his softening dick from his mouth and crawls back up beside him. 

“God, Patrick. You should see yourself. So hot.” 

“You’re awesome, Pete.” He pets his lazily on the shoulder. “Kinda tired now. Night night. Thanks for the orgasm.”  
“Hey!” Pete sounds half amused and half worried that Patrick might be serious.  
“Just Kidding.” Patrick looks at him from behind lidded eyes and grins. “Hey, you didn’t come in your pants.”  
“Fuck off. It was a near thing. I should get a medal. Besides, I’m not wearing pants anymore. _And_ I haven’t come yet.” He pouts and does he best puppy dog eyes.  
“Yeah, I’ll fix that for you.”

Patrick decides that if Pete wants his mouth to do all the work then that’s exactly what he’s going to get. He licks his way down Pete’s throat, kisses over his sternum, and then down to his tummy where Patrick nips at the skin around the batheart. When he gets to Pete’s pubic bone he looks back up, and Pete’s got a hungry look in his eyes, like he’s forgotten to eat for a week and Patrick is a large pepperoni pizza. 

Patrick grins and gives Pete’s dick a slow lick around the head, down the underside and then back up. Pete just groans low and long and Patrick knows he’s doing fine. He alternates between sucking on the head and sinking down over the full length of Pete’s dick.

 

“You’re going to be the end of me, Patrick. Though what a fucking way to go.”

When Patrick glances back up at Pete, he’s got his arm thrown over his face so that he can’t see what Patrick is up to, and he’s worrying his bottom lip with his teeth between gasps. 

Patrick circles his tongue around the crown again and then sinks down as far as he can. When he feels Pete’s tip bump the back of his throat, he pulls up a little, he’s out of practice and his gag reflex is not what it used to be. Pete doesn’t seem to care, he’s too far gone and looks like he’s in raptures, fisting the sheets with his other hand. Patrick laps his tongue against the head and then hallows his cheeks and sucks hard. He pulls off briefly, but only to suck two of his own fingers into his mouth. When he sinks back down, he presses his two saliva-wet fingers to Pete’s hole. He only gets the tips of his fingers inside when Pete’s hips come off the bed, bucking hard. He doesn’t give Patrick any warning, but Patrick can tell from the tremble in this thighs and the growing moans. He comes down Patrick’s throat and all down his chin with a cry, with his hands threaded into Patrick’s hair.

Pete just lies there breathing hard with his eyes shut and he might be the most gorgeous thing Patrick has ever seen. When Patrick lies down beside him, Pete’s eyes open and his laboured breathing turns into a laugh. “Fucking fuck, Stump. Never going to be over that mouth of yours. You’re going to need to do that again, you know?”  
“Yeah. I think that should be okay.”

Pete reaches out and takes Patrick’s face in both hands and kisses him over and over again, and the kisses turn into giggles for both of them.

“You love me,” Pete says as he rubs his thumb over Patrick’s lip. He’s not teasing, he’s just sounds like he’s unbelievably happy.  
“Yeah. It’s love and shit.”  
“Asshole.” Pete grins and flicks him on the ear, and follows it with a playful lick.

Pete burrows down into the bed further so that he can get comfortable and get his head closer to Patrick’s chest. Patrick pulls his arm around him and feels so content. “I think it’s sleepy time now, Pattycakes. We have an early bus call tomorrow, and it’s late.”

Patrick feels a little disappointed that their first ever, real-life, naked snuggle-fest is coming to an end, until Pete clarifies. “Need to get my beauty sleep. I want to have time for round two in the morning so we can start re-enacting all of your other dreams. I don’t think ‘I was making Patrick come’ is going to cut it as an excuse for being late.” 

A little thrill runs through Patrick and he pulls Pete closer. 

They’re both quiet for several long minutes with just the sound of breathing filling the room.

“You love me,” Pete coos again.  
“Shut up,” Patrick says, though he can’t help but grin.  
“Sweet dreams.”


End file.
